Last Dance
by Angel daughter of Nike
Summary: Annabeth Chase only wanted to do was Dance all her life. But when something happens to her, her life Changes forever.


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**Hi my name is angel and this is my first story sorry if it's short I really hope you like it.**

**So all credit goes to Rick Riordan for the people and plot gose to Lurene Daniel. I realLu love this story I hope you do too! **

"One and two and stretch . . . And down. That's right! Up . . . up. Work with the inside of your leg. Yes . . . heel forward." the thick accent of Madame Mclean's voice hung over the rehearsal hall like a cloud.

Annabeth Chase rose high onto toe and then melted into a grand plié. She was very to keep her back straight and aligned. Was she tired! She couldn't remember a time when she felt less like being at ballet class.

"Come. Come, ladies!" Madame McLean scolded. "Straighten those backs. Hold those muscles!"

Easy for you to say, Annabeth thought irritably. From her position at the barre, she could see the reflection of the white-haired woman sitting on her "throne" -a stuff-backed chair next to the pianist.

Annabeth arched her arm over her head, and then bent to touch her forehead to her knee. Oh, great! She thought. I have to go to the bathroom- AGAIN! But she didn't dare ask to be excused form barre work. Why are ballet dancers expected to have iron bladders? She asked herself.

Madame McLean tapped her silver-headed cane in time with the piano. It pounded on the sleek oak floors in perfect tempo. The sound echoed in Annabeth's ears like a sledgehammer.

She reflected on what a rotten day it had been so far. Mr. Hephaestus had passed out a pop quiz in math (which she only got a 70 on). had assigned more than fifty pages of history reading for the night. And Anbabeth has arrived too late to warm up before ballet class, which was an unpardonable sin to Madame McLean of the Corps de Ballet Dance Studio. Annabeth barely had time to put on her pointe shoes and leg Warner's before Madame started barre exercise.

Annabeth could harly remember her life before ballet. She'd been a student of Madame Mclean's for eight years-ever since she was five years old. At first, it was just something for a cute little girl with bony knees and elbows to do for fun. But it wasn't long before Annabeth knew deep down in her heart that she wanted to be a professional ballerina-more than anything in the world. And no one in San Francisco could prepare her for life better than Madame Aphrodite McLean.

Sometimes Annabeth hated the woman. Sometimes she lived her. But always, she respected her. And Madame McLean wouldn't have wasted her time on students she didn't think had real talent. Annabeth knew if she wanted to realized her dream, then Madame McLean was the only one to help her.

"Annabeth!" Madame McLean's sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you asleep? Your barre work is very poor today."

The words cut through Annabeth, and she felt tears spring into her eyes. "I-I 'm sorry," she stammered. Nothing was more embarrassing than being criticized before the entire class. Annabeth felt her neck and face flush red.

The other girls froze in painful silence. They could all appreciate Annabeth's agony.

"I-I just don't feel very well today." She hated herself for saying that. Madame McLean disliked complaints about physical problems. "Then perhaps you should sit down."

"Oh,no. I-I'll be fine." Annabeth felt like sliding through the floorboards.

Her instructor glared at her a moment longer, then nodded to the paintst. Miss Lucy began again. "One and two and up and down. . ." Madame McLean started in her thick accent.

It's no use, Annabeth thought miserably. I'm just not with it today. And I HAVE to go to the bathroom. She caught Madame's eye and motioned towards the door. Then Annabeth left the barre and slipped into the tiny dressing room.

School clothes cluttered the floor. Shirts, jeans, shoes, and books lay in piles and jumbles. Each of Madame McLean's advanced dance students had hurried in from the hot, late September afternoon and changed into leotards, tights, and pointe shoes.

Two hours. For as long as Annabeth could remember, two hours everyday. Four hours on Saturdays. Rehearse. Practice. Except when a dance concert was planned. Then classes were even longer and more demanding.

And Annabeth knew that with Christmas coming up, Madame McLean would be planning another concert, a performance to showcase her top students. Annabeth's heart skipped in anticipation. The performances-that's what made it all worthwhile. To go out on stage and dance. And then to hear the applause. It was the most exciting feeling in the world! Weeks and weeks of practice for one glorious moment on the stage.

**So that's my first chapter I rally hope you like it rennet I own nothing nothing at all! **


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